Five Past Midnight - James Thayer [81]
This was the place in Berlin where the lost might be found. A hundred and more people clutched their coats, went up onto their toes, and called out, hoping against hope that the war would for once relent and allow their loved ones to appear at this spot. Occasionally a crushing embrace was seen, but most often people drifted away, one after another, hoarse and heartbroken.
Even Berliners who had misplaced one another while shopping knew to meet at these notice boards. And Artur's mother had figured out that her son might end up here. She leaped from the crowd and grabbed her son, her face broadly creased by a smile. Artur whooped and clung to his mother's neck, the piano keys and saxophone buttons rattling in his pockets, his wood truck in one hand. She scolded him softy, but he laughed. Artur's two brothers—perhaps seven and nine years old— waited nearby. The woman was dressed in a filthy Wehrmacht coat that hung to her ankles. Her hair was matted, and a deep cut on her chin did not seem to be healing. But she hugged and hugged her boy. Katrin looked at her watch. She still had ten minutes.
Finally, Artur freed himself to point over his shoulder at Katrin. Artur's mother smiled tentatively. Artur wiggled out of her arms to join his brothers. His mother's mouth moved, trying to find the right words. Then she stepped to Katrin and gripped both of her hands in hers and whispered a thank you.
Katrin pulled two cheese rolls out of her pocket, and passed them to the woman, who may not have seen that much food in weeks. She grabbed them, then remembered to smile another thanks. Katrin dug further, and pulled out three Kaiser rolls. The woman also took these, and turned to join her sons. She herded them away. West, of course. An instant later they had disappeared in the crowd.
Katrin fairly ran past the ruined church toward Budapcster Strasse. She reined herself in. To run in Berlin was to invite being stopped by the Gestapo. Wilhelm Becker had told her weeks ago that he was punctual. That in an emergency she could always find him walking along the park side of Tiergartenstrasse at four in the afternoon. He had given her precise instructions how to meet him, but only in a dire predicament. She hurried along the Landwehr Canal, then crossed a bridge to approach army headquarters.
And it was here she spotted Colonel Becker, emerging from the OKW building's double doors. But instead of turning north toward the park, for the stroll he promised he took every afternoon at four, he turned south, toward her. The distance between them closed rapidly. Other army officers moved in and out of the building.
She was startled by Becker's appearance. His shoulders were hunched protectively. His eyes were shadowed and remote, and, it seemed to Katrin, fearful, darting left and right. She had met him at several army social gatherings before Adam had been arrested, and the colonel had been animated, with an inexhaustible supply of expressions and gestures. But now his face was clouded, and his mouth was pulled back anxiously. Becker had the look of one expecting a blow.
Katrin stepped up to him. "Colonel Becker?"
He started, his head snapping back. And he gasped, more a hiss, when he recognized her. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you."
He shook his head so violently he dislodged his peaked hat, and it rested on one ear. "That's impossible. You've .. . you've put me in grave danger approaching me. I can't possibly..."
She fiercely gripped his elbow and turned him around. "Walk with me to the park."
When he balked, she pulled him along like she had done with Artur. The colonel ducked his head to hide his face under the cap's brim.
She said, "You didn't respond to my message."
His arm trembled under the pressure of her hand. He seemed so afraid he could not control his legs, and she guided him north, toward the Tiergarten. Fear was making him breathe like a runner.
"What has happened to you?" she demanded.
Becker coughed weakly, an excuse to hide his face behind his hand as